Pink
by Fishnet Fangs
Summary: A red sock ends up in a load of white laundry and someone has to pay. Mystery, blackmail and nudity follow in a comedic twist of the macabre.
1. Red in the Whites

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Lost Boys.**

_October 2, 1985_

7 p.m.

The air was turning colder outside; silently it would seethe through the cave in sudden bursts, dimming the candles and choking the fires that burned in oversized, rusted barrels. Winter was a lazy time for the Lost Boys. With the summer gone, there were no beachside parties, no bonfires, no hundreds of tourists flocking around the boardwalk, open targets and easy prey.

No, these months were harsher with an agreed on limit to the amount of live victims they could have within a single week. The locals here could grow few and far in between and with too many of them missing… well, Max said it would likely cause a conspiracy theory big enough to rival Area 59.

Whether this fact was true or grossly overstated, David and the boys had complied. Though, living on only one human a week was starting to grow rather… stressful.

They could steal blood packets from the Blood Bank or they could earn them from Max by working nights at his video shop. Paul had been fired five times, Dwayne wouldn't speak to the customers or help them with their purchases, Marko stole money from the register, and David refused to help all together.

With no work ethic, morals or blood, the boys tried to live as normally as possible.

* * *

The coffee was cold and tasted terrible.

Groaning inwardly, David forced himself to swallow and stare sourly at the mug, trying to decide whether it was the fault of the cheap, battery-powered coffee maker or Dwayne's who, for whatever reason, when given money to go shopping for the gang, always returned with only the absolute, basic needs. All, of course, the cheapest the store had to offer.

Instead of Folgers, David got REGULAR COFFEE, in what appeared to be a spray-painted blue can with a slightly torn and water stained top.

The groan continued as another sip of the cold, tasteless substance was taken. The paper was sprawled out across the table with evidence that Paul had been there already, stealing the corners for joint papers. How the hell he could keep affording to buy weed, though couldn't scrape up enough to buy more rolling papers was something that baffled David.

And speaking of being baffled…

Glancing up for a single second, David caught the sight of Dwayne passing through the shadows in the cave. The man's eyes were on fire as his hair swept about his face as though there were some static current traveling through the air. It took a second longer to realize what the man was pissed about.

His boxers.

With Dwayne everything was simple: white boxers kept washed and in neatly folded piles in a dresser that resided at the back of the cave along with several other tokens of humanity that the man still clung to in his dying, human age. Upon waking, there was little need for a robe or any sort of confinement and normally he would stride through the cave wearing nothing but those tight whites, performing his evening rituals.

But tonight was different.

Instead of _wearing _his boxers, the man had them clutched tightly in a fist and stood naked before David, flinging around certain things that the vampire truly didn't care to see.

"Who the _hell _has been doing laundry this past week?" Dwayne snarled, staring pointedly at David for a few moments before eyes cast to the other shadows that were gathering about the cave.

David tried his best not to lower his paper, but curiosity got the best of him and flipping down a corner, he instantly saw the problem.

Pink.

The man's boxers were a bright, cotton-candy pink instead of their usual, tidy white. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, David refused to answer or look head-on into the accusing eyes of his brother. It was too early for this shit.

Denied a fight from David, the man's anger immediately turned to the others that were starting to work their way through the cave. Eventually, it landed upon Star who, unlike the others, had gotten an early start to her evening.

She was a vision in modern, so unlike her carefree, gypsy self in the summer months. Wearing tight, black pants that graciously hugged the curve of her hips and thighs, she had borrowed one of Paul's long-sleeved Grateful Dead t-shirts and a jean jacket that did little to hide the band's logo.

Still a half-vamp, the winter months were hardly a challenge as she went about her way, stealing blood (or so the others figured) from animals that she and Laddie could catch around the pier and the various houses that let their poor, unsuspecting dogs and cats out for the night. Feeling Dwayne's intense stare, she jerked from the magazine she had been flipping through and stiffened angrily.

"What makes you think I did it?" she asked, incredulous.

Dwayne was silent, trying his best to come up with a good reason while David snuck a peek from around his newspaper. It took the winter months to bring out the biker in Star and not-so-guilty fantasies were beginning to form in his head.

"You're the one who usually does it, aren't you?" Dwayne spat.

"Yea, and every time I do, your boxers usually come out white, don't they?" she fired back.

It was logic so practical and astounding that it left nothing for the man to do but shift uncomfortably and look around for another person to blame.

He wouldn't have to wait long.

"Oh man, I knew it! I just fucking knew it!"

Paul. Aside from Star he was the earliest of the night breed to wake and had been roaming the caves for a good hour or so before the others had managed to rise. Normally, these hours were spent with loud music or guitar practice that shook the whole cave and had an early evening snacks arriving in the form of police cruisers that had heard the ruckus. Tonight however, the stoner had been unusually quiet. Which was always a bad sign.

Paul was as naked as Dwayne. Nothing but blonde hair, pale skin and white-err, pink tube socks that stretched up hairy legs with black and red bands that nearly met at his knees. This time, there was no resisting as the paper lowered slowly and David studied his youngest brother with something close to a sickening fascination.

Standing next to Dwayne, the man wasn't anything special above the waist but below it…

The paper immediately flipped back up and trembled slightly as he tried his hardest to finish the article he'd been reading for over twenty minutes.

Dwayne, only mildly unsettled by Paul's nudity, took a step back from the beaming blonde stoner.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked.

Paul smirked. "Naked Thursdays? Man, I knew you would warm up to the idea. There's nothing like sitting naked around a bonfire and getting blazed."

It took a moment for realization to set in upon them all. It's was Paul's new thing: Naked Thursdays. Since the parties had died down to nothing, the young one had been looking to spice up the nights with corny traditions that to him were the greatest in the world while to the others, they bordered on insanity. Leave it to a child of sixties parents to enjoy sitting around in the nude amongst his fellow brethren.

Letting the page flip back down, David couldn't resist…

"Paul, how many times did you get dropped on your head, again?" he asked, amused.

The stoner didn't even bat an eye or come close to realizing the insult.

"Three, why?"

David nodded, flipping the page back up while Star turned around to hide her smile and Dwayne grumbled, putting on his discolored boxers.

"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing, I thought…" Paul stumbled as he watched Dwayne pull up his pink britches. The look of confusion and sadness overtook the fledglings eyes and for a moment, he was filled with something that was close to pity and guilt.

The feelings didn't last long.

"No way, Paul. Sitting around a bonfire with another naked guy and getting stoned… it seems a little…" he started, stopped short as the confusion continued to grow on the others face.

Dwayne shook his head. "Look, I already made other plans. Go ask Star."

Paul's eyes lit up. The prospect of seeing a naked woman was far more interesting than Dwayne, no matter how impressive his body was. Unfortunately, Star was already moving towards the entrance of the cave. Her face gave away that she hardly felt any kind of obligation or pity when it came to Paul. There were too many nights where she had woken up and found the stoner snoring and curled up in her bed with last nights meal still smeared around his face.

Not to mention, a hand that might have been groping her.

"Forget it, Paul. I don't smoke," she said.

Put off by this, Paul couldn't help but sulk and look towards David with a helpless stare. "So I have to get stoned by myself again?"

"Jesus Christ, someone call the 1970s and tell Paul to give them their socks back." Echoed from the shadows as the final member of the Lost Boys stepped out.

To call his entrance unusual would have been a drastic understatement. Marko simply appeared out of the darkness, missing only the crash of symbols and the puff of smoke like the late Houdini. Unlike the famous magician, however, Marko was a far cry from anything that passed as normal, especially early in the evening at the cave.

The mop-top of golden curls were wound up within several dozen pink curlers around the vampire's head. If that weren't enough, an overly large, black t-shirt with white (now pink) lettering that read BITE ME was sprawled across the creatures chest with matching pink boxers, made even more ridiculous by their originally tasteful, white flower pattern

His eyes twitched at seeing Paul before they fell somewhat confused to Dwayne's pink boxers and finally to David who sipped his coffee in disgust. He and Dwayne both knew of Marko's hair-care habits but, being stoned all the time, Paul had yet to remember how Marko kept his hair so curly. Let alone the last fight they'd had when Paul couldn't stop laughing.

Already the stoner's face was twisting in amusement, though David gave him credit for trying to keep himself under control for as long as he did.

It was enough to allow Marko to shift between their gazes, confused as he stared at Dwayne's underwear before noticing his own pink clothing.

"What the fuck-" he started before Paul burst out laughing.

"Dude… dude…" was all the stoner could gasp as he held his sides causing his curly haired brother to tense.

"Who the hell was in charge of laundry last week?" he hissed.

"That's what I was trying to find out," Dwayne echoed.

It took no more than a second before both sets of eyes fell to the giggling stoner that had managed to clamp a hand over his mouth, though his gaze still danced with mirth.

"What? You think I did it?" he said in between the bouts of laughter.

"It has to be you," Marko snarled, hands tensing into claws while the glint of the candle light revealed fangs that were starting to work their way down.

Managing to control his fits of giggling, Paul held up his hands in defense.

"Fuck, it wasn't my turn to do laundry last week! I was helping Max in the store, remember?" he said, causing Marko to hesitate and Dwayne to frown. Unfortunately, Paul was right. He _had _been at Max's store all week, getting fired and then rehired over and over until Max banned him all together. He wouldn't have had the time to do any laundry.

"Besides," Paul continued. "I _know _how to separate the loads. Hasn't anyone ever noticed how I keep my darks so… dark?"

No one had.

"Yep. I'd say it's a classic case of the red sock in the whites. Not my doing," Paul said, crossing his arms triumphantly. It was one of the few times he was right and felt the need to savor the moment.

"Christ," Marko mumbled, putting the claws and antics away as he angrily stomped off to get a cup of tasteless coffee and continue with his hair-care ritual.

Dwayne was also walking away, grumbling wordlessly beneath his breath.

It was right then that David finished the article and looked up to discover, to his horror, that he and Paul were the last two occupants left in the cave.


	2. Stairway to Heaven

"Come on."

"No."

"_Please?_"

"Not in a million years, Paul."

"How about two million?"

"Damnit Paul!"

"Fuck dude! I come up with great ideas and no one takes them seriously! Have you ever even tried it, David?"

It was ridiculous, the idea of getting stoned, naked with Paul around a bonfire and then taking to the night, either dressed or still in their nude glory, to hunt and feed on the locals. Not that David was so against this last part, but the idea of getting naked in front of Paul and sharing a joint… well, it wasn't the greatest image in his head.

Then again… tonight promised to be another moping shamble of silence in the cave. Maybe knocking over the Blood Bank again, but already their security was getting tight. And as far as the packets of blood, it was a long cry from the warm-blooded kill that they were all use to. It was enough to depress David into a moment of silence that allowed Paul to push his point.

"Okay, how about this. I'll be naked and you just wear your boxers. C'mon dude, you gotta get stoned with me, just this once!"

David sighed. "I said no, Paul, and I'm serious-"

"I'll tell Dwayne and Marko who did laundry last week."

It was low, even for Paul. But the kid must have really been lonely these past few weeks of being sober and only getting stoned with himself and a couple of thralls that he managed to keep without Max's knowledge. David narrowed his eyes at his youngest brother.

"You wouldn't dare," he whispered.

Paul gave him a toothy grin before hands moved to cup around his mouth and turn it into a megaphone. "Oh DWAAAAYNE! Guess who did laun-"

A hand clamped over the stoner's mouth, shoving him against the wall.

"Alright! Alright! But I get to wear my boxers and you have to swear never to tell them it was my fault!" David succumbed, though with his fangs bared.

Leader or not, he didn't want to face the wrath of Marko and Dwayne combined.

Paul grinned from ear to ear. "It's a deal. Oh man, this is going to be fucking sweet!"

And from there, he bounced from each corner of the cave, gathering all the essentials that David assumed would be used to get them stoned off their asses. Goddamnit.

In two minutes flat, Paul had retrieved an enormous sack of bluish-purple colored bud that almost seemed black in the dim light of the cave, the Rock Box with a cassette tape of Pink Floyd, a lighter and what looked to be a black piece of pipeline that, upon closer inspection, David realized was a bong.

Unlike Paul's other instruments for smoking, this one was far beyond what David and the others had expected the stoner to lay actual, hard-earned money down and buy. It was made of glass, stained black either purposely or through the constant stream of smoke and resin that collected upon the sides. It rose up nearly two and a half feet with silver encircling the mouth piece and a matching black stem with a bowl that was probably larger than any stoner really needed.

Looking closer, David saw the etchings in the side of the glass.

They read: Stairway To Heaven.

Good God, what had he gotten himself into?


	3. Pigeons and Plotting

"This is bullshit!"

They were pink! All of them! Every white tank top, sock, pair of boxers and the occasional over-shirt was stained the ungodly color, causing tremors of rage to crease the youth's face as he pitched each ruined article to the ground. Everything had been tarnished… everything except for one single, long-sleeved, button up, collared nightmare that hung with a pair of decent black slacks that were only ever used when going over to Max's for the man's semi-annual slide-shows.

All the boys were required to wear them as they sat in anguished boredom, watching blurry pictures of themselves, Max and the gorgeous scenery of their extended trips and excursions over the past few decades.

Great. What the hell was he going to wear now?

The shadows at the entrance of the cave seemed to twitch and the vampire growled low in his throat. All of his outfits were destroyed because of someone in this damned cave! And while his every instinct told him it was likely Paul or Star, suspicion still remained against them all. Including the dark-haired wraith that stood at the entrance to his brother's cavern, watching intensely with those dark, hypnotic eyes.

The connection between them pulled and Marko stiffened all the more.

"Why the hell would I ruin all of _my _clothing? If anything, I'm the one whose suffering the worst in all of this!" he snarled to his silent brother's equally silent question.

For a moment, the darkness seemed to twitch and grow thicker throughout the cave. It was Dwayne's specialty, the manipulation of the shadows that could keep himself and the others in total darkness, even when there was a sufficient amount of light around them. Marko's power was a little less defined in manner of usefulness but that was honestly a matter of opinion.

High up in the rafters, hundreds of eyes watched the gathering powers below. Pigeons. All flocking and cooing, drawn to Marko through some unexplainable bond and ready to follow his orders in a snap. Orders that could range from pecking a single person to death, or shitting on them. Honestly, it was toss up which was truly worse.

The cooing continued for a moment longer until the darkness began to retreat, allowing Dwayne to step out of its murk.

"I never said you did," he said, voice low while eyes cast up to the fluttering mass of feathers that was gathered directly above them. Honestly, he didn't believe that Marko had any hand in this and suspicion wasn't enough to endure the wrath of a hundred, shitting and pecking demons.

"Then why the theatrics?" Marko hissed, fangs still bared, ready to rip his brother a new asshole simply for the thought.

All his clothes were ruined and he desperately wanted someone to blame.

"All of my stuff was destroyed too," Dwayne countered, attempting to keep a calm air to his tone. Marko was a loose and dangerous cannon at times, prone to creating havoc with only the slightest nudge.

Letting his words sink in, Dwayne gave a shrug. "I was just curious, I guess."

It was enough to disarm Marko, causing the vampire to recoil and retract those blood-hungry fangs. His face looked ashen, hungry but Dwayne knew his brother well enough to know that Marko would never go out in a pink shirt, preferring instead to starve himself for fashion sake.

Unfortunately, Dwayne knew where he was coming from. It just didn't feel right… wearing pink under his pants.

"You know, I don't believe that stoner for a second," Marko growled. "Sure, he was working with Max, but I could have sworn it _was _his turn last week. He just gotten better at lying."

Again, Dwayne shrugged but inwardly he seethed at the thought of Paul being so careless. But then again… he'd never really gotten an answer from David, either. And for that matter, Star was also a suspect; always looking for a passively aggressive way to get back at each of them for forcing her into a life that was slowly starting to consume and destroy her.

"Any one of them could have done it," Dwayne said, furrowing his brows in thought.

"I don't think Star would," Marko said, reaching up and unraveling one of the curlers in his hair, checking the spiral before he began to unwind the rest. "She doesn't have enough balls."

"She doesn't have _any _balls," Dwayne answered automatically. "But she still could have done it out of stupidity."

"They all could have!" Marko spat, careful not to drop any of the foamy, pink curlers. "And stupidity is no excuse!"

"Exactly," Dwayne nodded. "Which is why we should stage an investigation of our own."

Playing with one of his curls for a moment, green eyes glanced back at the dark vampire curiously.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, there's always an attendant at the laundry mat right? Why not just go and ask them who was there last week? With some persuasion they might be able to remember."

"And what if they don't? Humans have such faulty memories."

"I didn't say it was a perfect plan, Marko. But it's a start."

"You know who isn't affected by this? David and Paul. They're clothes are mostly black and I bet you anything they're both in on it somehow!"

Anger sparked between the two like an electric current, connecting them again in a moment of silent agreement that the one found guilty would pay and pay dearly.

Until then…

Marko sighed and reached for his jacket. Another reason why a shirt was so crucial was for the simple fact that it would look awkward roaming through the streets and down the boardwalk shirtless in thirty degree weather. Humans, while oblivious to everything else, seem to take note of such strange little oddities.

And tonight promised to be full of them.


	4. Sex and Revulsion

"Shit, it's been at least… two months…"

David winced and Paul visibly flinched at hearing this new information out loud. He'd expected it to be bad but not this bad! No wonder David had been such a cock-block these past couple of months, refusing to let Paul take girls to the back of the cave for a good feed and fuck.

Rage surged through the stony haze Paul currently was feeling, knowing deep down that it was all Star and her stupid insecurities as a dying mortal that was keeping him from getting laid. If the leader wasn't getting any than neither was anyone else. Of course, both Marko and Dwayne were hardly affected by this rule, seeing how often they got laid in a century. But Paul had been killed at the height of his sexuality and as such, his special power was a nearly irresistible charm and lust that exuded from every pore upon his being. Sometimes all he had to do was stare at them and their wills melted into desire as their blood rose up to greet his touch.

However, going without sex for weeks on end had considerably weakened his powers charm and persuasion. Without a constant source of blood, sex and drugs, the stoner had been slapped nearly five times this week.

Growling deep in his throat, he felt a strange combination of hatred for Star and pity for David who sat in his boxers, staring up at the ceiling with something close to an awestruck fascination. It had been the long time since his brother had smoked good herb and cut loose, relaying strange and disturbing secrets to Paul.

Like Oak Shade Hotel.

It had been a similar set up as this one: an abandoned hotel on the edge of a small town that teetered and swayed in the wind occasionally when a rough storm passed through. Instead of staying in the house itself, however, the boys preferred to sleep in the basement rooms that stretched so far beneath the building that they could be mistaken for catacombs. It was the only time in Paul's immortal life that he'd actually slept in a coffin. And fuck, they were uncomfortable.

In those days, David had been more wild. More carefree and rebellious towards Max and his imposed rules. They hunted wherever they wanted, ate whoever they came across and had zero regrets when it came to creating chaos and havoc with a single glimpse into the nightmare that they were.

In any case… they'd gone too far.

People weren't so dense as David had predicted and within a few weeks, the boys and Max as well, were driven out of the town with threats of both staking and the FBI becoming involved. Punishment had been dolled out by Max to them all and none ever suspected anything more came out of it.

"He made me stay with her. Like… an entire weekend, man."

Paul felt his stomach lurch and his high immediately sink into the floor. The bud they were smoking was far beyond what any normal stoner should truly possess but the sudden image of the woman caught him off guard.

Staring at David in horror, he slowly shook his head. Revulsion was one thing, it was something that an average creature could deal with. But this… this was far beyond what any being, immortal or otherwise, should have to endure. Much less for forty-eight hours.

Granny Marlene.

Pressing a hand suddenly to his mouth, Paul felt himself heave for a moment but thankfully nothing (due to the lack of feeding) came up. The old hag was the next higher up on the family tree of the Lost Boys.

Being Max's creator entitled her to certain rights. Every so often she would come to visit or they would be forced to go up and visit her, bringing along their best suits, best behaviors and absolutely no fangs or bloodshed in the woman's presence. Born in a culture of class, she preferred to keep their vampire heritage as little noticed as possible and thus, each time they were forced to be around her, the boys were forced to act human.

Entirely human.

Right down to the appearance of warmth through makeup and cosmetics that gave the skin a more lively appearance. It went against every instinct the boys had as vampires. It went against simply being vampire itself and even Max was worn after spending any length of time with the creature-woman.

However, if they didn't adhere to her rules, she would take their powers by force. And that force was through her own fangs. Two brittle, little nubs that hardly anyone living or dead actually saw in use; they would tear into the throat of the one who insulted her with their crude remarks, poor posture or lapping their blood soup at the table, and drain them to the point of such weakness that they couldn't resist the curse that was then placed upon them. A curse that made them human.

Or… seemingly human.

Their powers were absorbed by this creature under such a curse and while she let them retain the essence of their immortality, they were constantly weak and unable to use any of their strengths. Much less feed or fly or fuck.

The old hag had at one time or another, placed such a curse upon them all and it was no wonder that they all despised the woman right down to the very core.

"Dude, did she make you sit around with all those weird, old ladies and drink that vomit tea?"

David shook his head, but his face was paler than usual.

"She made me… she made me attend a formal gathering and dance with her. All night. And when we were done…. she…." David almost gagged on the words.

Paul was dangling by a thread. "She what? What did she do?"

"… she fed me."

Both vampires felt the pits of their stomachs turn and fall out. Such a secret must have been eating at David for some time now. It was no secret that Max had tasted the witch's blood but the boy's all tried their hardest to avoid taking anything directly from her veins. Sharing blood was something of an intimacy amongst vampires. One only wanted to do it with someone they wanted to be close with.

"Oh man, David, I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry about it-"

"How the hell did she manage that?"

David shifted uncomfortably. The woman's outward appearance was somewhere between seventy and eighty years old with all the attractiveness of a wrinkled burlap sack. The appearance of immortality was hidden beneath her will to appear human and the very age that she had been made into a vampire. Out of all the immortal family trees and dynasties, none was weirder than that of the Lost Boys.

David shuddered and gripped his shoulders. "Well, it wasn't like she was coming on to me or anything. She just offered me wine and I needed to get drunk. I needed to get drunk really, really badly, Paul."

"Damn, she pulled the old wine trick on you? C'mon David, that's the oldest fucking trick in the book."

"You don't think I bled myself out a dozen times after it happened?" David snarled. He'd tried his hardest to get rid of the sensation of her pulse beating in his ears but no amount of starvation or bleeding techniques would ever truly remove it. Like it or not, David was now connected with the witch.

Paul gave one final shudder before the sudden sound of wings carried throughout the air. All too quickly, the shadows around them fell in a trippy pattern that lasted just long enough for Paul to steal another hit before the hellish forms of Marko and Dwayne were upon them.


End file.
